


Iced

by hipsterloki



Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Disney, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterloki/pseuds/hipsterloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a kingdom long ago that watched over a magical realm that are only told in stories, is an Ice Tower said to hold the biggest crystal (worth the entire palace one slightly shady traveling vendor once said) all four sides of the kingdom has ever seen. And Fandral, self-proclaimed robin hood of the realms, has decided that he really needs that crystal for obvious reasons (steal from the rich and give to the needy-- yadda yadda yadda, everyone knows their code by now or at least Fandral supposes they should). What he doesn't expect is the pale, green-eyed, black haired, lanky prince that wields the heaviest damned book that he's ever had the misfortune of getting his head slammed with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iced

**Author's Note:**

> [That one time fornax/kruegan drew Loki as a Disney prince and then I wrote some crazy tags and Sid drew me this picture of Frandral and I cried and I wrote this](http://balphesian.tumblr.com/post/9895965252). Maybe posting it on here will help me actually write a second chapter. I'm sensing this might not happen, but worth a shot. It's basically a Thor/Tangled AU. Not beta-read.

“Brother!” It was a thunderous voice that did not sit well with the curled up prince. He pressed his face further into the soft pillows, slapping thin hands over his ears desperately. “Brother!”

He rolled over onto his back, arms splaying out on the cushions of his bed. The bed dipped heavily and a crushing weight rolled on top of him before promptly burying under the thick fur blankets. The prince who had tried to cling onto a few more moments of sleep was rudely awakened by his brother who was now curled up at his side.

“Wake up, brother,” he felt a nuzzling on his neck that forced his bright green eyes wide open.

“Why do you do this to me Thor?” The prince whined and struggled to roll over before pushing himself up from the bed. Thor stayed under the heavy blankets which were pulled up to his nose.

“If it were not for me, you’d sleep your life away. It’s so easy up here where it’s cold.” Thor replied, blue eyes following his brother’s lazy movements around his circular room.

The light from outside came through the ice covered windows in distorted waves, cascading like water over the stone floor and his bed. He dug up fresh clothing from his wardrobe and left Thor to shiver under the blankets. Thor couldn’t understand how his brother managed in such a room all day, every day.  But he could hear Loki shuffling in the bathroom before he stepped out, fixing one of his sleeves idly.

“So, have you come to have breakfast with me or keep my bed warm?” Lips the shade of faint purple turned upwards into a smile.

“Loki,” Thor gave a hollow warning, sliding out of the bed with a grin. “Sharp tongued fiend.”

“That I am, now what have you got for me?” Loki slid into the wooden chair that groaned under his weight. He dug spindly fingers into his thick hair, combing through the dark strands, trying to fix the tousled mess.

“Fruit,” Loki’s face twisted in disgust but Thor dropped the basket of fruit in front of his brother, urging him to take an apple. “It’s good for you, god knows you need it. You look sickly--”

“I am sickly. That’s why I’m here.” Loki grumbled, hesitating for a moment before sinking his teeth into the round apple. He made it a point to chew noisily, as if to bring it to Thor’s attention that he hated apples.

“Well, I never see you get better.” Thor sighed, leaning back into his own seat. “Your lips are the color of death.”

“And here I thought you had come to visit me, not insult.” Loki’s green eyes cut up, thick eyelashes obscuring them from Thor.

“Come off it, I speak only with honesty. I thought you welcomed that.”

Loki’s lips pressed into a pout as he continued to chew on the apple. Thor hadn’t meant to make his brother upset, but he seemed to have a knack for souring his brother’s mood.  He only meant to tell his brother the truth, ever since they were children he had watched his brother grow up in the enchanted ice tower and for so long he had wondered: why? They had told him he was ill, sick, only the cold could prevent him from asphyxiating or so Thor had pieced together but after all these years, he had never seen his brother look healthy. He looked more like a breathing icicle and as comical as it was to picture his brother in an ice suit - he was sure it must be a frozen hell to spend his days up in the miserably cold tower.

Thor hid the smile twitching at the corner of his lips and bit down on a ruby red apple, joining his brother for a small, quick breakfast. Quick because it was all Thor could stand, he hated the cold and if he looked hard enough he could see the subtle quivering of his brother’s shoulders and he knew Loki too hated the cold, he was just used to it by now. Like the frost giant sorceress who had enchanted the ice tower for his father, they were accustomed to the cold but it shouldn’t mean that they necessarily enjoyed it. Or did it? Thor was never one to sit and ponder too hard, and by the way his brother was staring at him he supposed he had wasted enough time doing just that.

He gave Loki a large, toothy smile, chomping into the apple once more and finishing it off quickly before excusing himself to the cellar door leading towards the twisting stairs that connected the tower to the palace. Thor turned back for a moment, offering one more smile to his always gloomy brother, wished him a good day and that he’d return the next morning to visit. Like clockwork Thor came and went, just to take in the view of his withering brother or so Loki felt. He hated feeling like he was in a cage, but fear was as crippling as the cold and he was scared of what could happen to him out there where the sun was bright, the days were long, and the heat would be unbearable.

So he stayed in his tower, re-reading books in his favorite chair, wrapped in his blanket and waiting for supper to arrive. Every day was the same, and sometimes it would be more bearable but other times he felt like throwing himself against the ice wall placed against his windows hoping they would give way and he could leap out -- to his death, or to his freedom, he wasn’t quite sure but he supposed in those times, he really wouldn’t have cared. But they were fleeting thoughts at best, pushed as far back into the recesses of his mind where he could forget about them easily. He decided he would bide his time in the lonely ice tower waiting for anything at all, but mostly waiting for his life to begin.

* * *

The town was thrumming with villagers so early in the morning, vendors and traders yelling across the open square on the quality of their goods. Fandral pushed back a stray bang and hovered around each stand, a perfectly well mannered smile on his face. Toying with one of the brass buttons on his vest, his blue eyes never ceased to survey the open market until, head shooting up and waving an arm to some obscure part of the square, he yelled, “THIEF!”

Jumping up from his post, he split the crowd, his green cape billowing after him before he stood in front of a fruit stand. The vendor stared up at him dumbly and Fandral had to stop from rolling his eyes.

“ _Thief,_ ” he reiterated, pointing off in the distance. When the vendor turned to look, there pushing his way through the back crowds was a cloaked figure trying to make a hasty getaway.

“THIEF!” The vendor cried out, rushing around his stand and taking a few uncertain steps towards the direction of the fleeing man.

With the vendor and the spectators momentarily preoccupied, Fandral brandished his sword and promptly drove it into the crate of apples, skewering a half a dozen and sliding them into his leather pouch. Blue eyes darted around as he sheathed his sword and took a step away from the fruit stand with an innocent smile upon his face.

“Fear not, I will go after him for you.” He offered with a charmingly crooked smile, blonde bangs falling in front of warm blue eyes. The false sincerity on his face offered comfort to the stout vendor and with an overdramatic flick of his wrist which tossed his cape around, he disappeared into the throng of people after the hooded figure.

Once reaching the outskirts of the town, he raced across the cobbled paths and into the thicket, swatting at the prickly bushes surrounding him. He shouldered the bag and fought through the weeded grass until he disappeared into the thick, enshrouding trees.

“Volstagg?” Fandral called out, pushing back a branch as he stepped forward.

“Here—“ Came a low voice which turned into a surprised grunt as Fandral let the branch swing back into place unknowingly thwacking his friend in the stomach.

“Sorry, friend.” Fandral stifled a chuckle as he walked away, Volstagg trotting behind him. “But, I’ve got breakfast.”

“Well I’m glad our morning wasn’t a waste, I’m starving.” Volstagg helped himself to the apples in Fandral’s bag, digging one of his meaty hands around until he yanked one out that he deemed good enough to eat and sunk his teeth into it.

The woodlands thinned into rolling hills and in the distance Fandral could see laborers hacking away at the ground, working until surely their hands would blister in hopes that something might raise from the ground and relieve them.

Relief.

It was all some hoped for, days where the pressure of living were swept away and for a moment they’d be able to breathe, look up, and say, “I am alive.” For now all they could do was hope for relief. Volstagg seemed to notice the sudden silence, and he watched Fandral carefully. There was that dangerous glint in his eyes that he always seemed to get when he schemed. Before Volstagg could question his partner, they past through nearby fields and Fandral reached out for the first man he could grab a hold of, offering an apple to the tired farmer.

“We can’t leave them this way,” Fandral sighed after they had left the worker chewing on the fresh apple gratefully.

“And what do you propose Dashing Fandral?” Volstagg teased before taking a seat on a grassy hill top.

“Something, anything really.” The swordsman dropped himself next to his friend, letting gravity press down and force him back so he laid splayed out over the grass.

“That’s helpful.”

“Finish your apple and let me do the thinking,” Fandral sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. A breeze swept through the hills, the grass moving in waves and the long blades tickling his face.

What could they steal that’d be enough to give back to the peasants toiling from sun up to sun down? Fandral’s eyebrows furrowed and one by one going through the many things they’ve stolen, or had thought about stealing, all of them petty. A heavy breath escaped Fandral’s parted lips and he cracked open his eyes. The sun was disorienting and for a few brief seconds the bright day blinded him, forcing him to blink out the overwhelming light from his eyes and focus his gaze back to the city.

There wasn’t much that he could see over the treetops, except for the palace. He could see the high vaulted ceilings pointing up into the clear sky, but to the right shot a tower higher than the rest. He could see trails of ice gradually get thicker until the very top of the tower was encased in it. The ice tower of the kingdom, rumored by all to hold a crystal so grand that it was the old king’s life savings in one rock.

Perking up, Fandral pushed himself up with his elbows, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “Volstagg, friend. I’ve got it - it’s absolutely brilliant.”

“Hmm? And what’s that?”

“Look over yonder, what do you see?” He urged his friend to stare up at the tower with a sweeping gesture of his hand.

“The Ice Tower,” Volstagg replied matter-of-factly, cutting his eyes down to Fandral’s smiling face, a row of straight, white teeth digging into the plump curve of his bottom lip. “No. Fandral, you are mad. No, absolutely not.” Volstagg could suddenly feel in the deep pit of his stomach an uncomfortable churning that told him Fandral was up to no good, and he knew exactly what it was he wanted to do, but to break into the Ice Tower was an insane task. Volstagg eyed Fandral’s eager face with a deep frown, hand nervously threading through his bushy red beard and he realized, Fandral was incredibly insane at times.

“Come now Voltagg, do you know what we could do with a crystal that large? It’d be worth the palace itself. My dear--”

“Don’t.”

“Wonderful--”

“Fandral, stop.”

“Friend. We absolutely must.” And if the smile were some sort of disease and contagious, Volstagg would have caught it by now. His shoulders slumped, a hand covering his face dramatically.

“You absolutely must, what?” The two men lounging about the grassy hilltop turned their gaze up, a darkened figure standing just in front of them. They both squinted until the image of a serious and slightly reprimanding face came into focus.

“Hogun, so good to see you here. We, Volstagg and I, were just wondering when would be the best time to… uh, you know, climb and break into the Ice Tower. Just to borrow the crystal of course.” Fandral offered a megawatt smile, perfectly lined teeth framed by blonde facial hair.

“Borrowing would signify the intention to return said borrowed object,” Hogun murmured, a look of disapproval in his dark eyes.

“Ah yes, forgive my error. We’re just going to steal it, nothing too horribly bad.”

“Yes, because stealing the King’s prized jewel is of course a  _minor_  offense.”

“Do you always have to ruin my mood?” Fandral laid back on the grass, closing his eyes before his sight became blotched by the bright sun. “What are we, friends? Are we not robin hoods, defenders of the weak and less fortunate? Why hide a crystal away in a tower with no intention of using it and offer little to no help to the poor bastards dying here, working hard for nothing? They need us. And we need that crystal.”

“Here, here.” Volstagg hummed in agreement, nodding complacently.

“Come now Hogun, have breakfast with us and tonight? That crystal  is ours.” Fandral offered a reassuring smile which Hogun did not return.

“You are mad,” came the low, biting reply.

“I prefer ‘Dashing’ but ‘Mad’ also works.” 


End file.
